Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic
by himynameisyoli
Summary: George has been living a shadow of a life--work, his girlfriend who he doesn't really love, and trying to forget. Can Angelina help him realize feeling isn't always so painful?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not Harry Potter or any of it's characters, that is all the property of J.K Rowling, publishers, WB, and not me. I own Ronald Weasley in my heart, though.

A/N: I haven't forgotten about my other HP fic; I was without my laptop for awhile (or at least, being able to write on it) so sorry about that. I'll be updating it within the month of whenever I have moe ideas, I don't want to to update with just anything for the sake of updating. But please r+r this one, thanks! :)

_Chapter One_

George Weasley felt a heavy sense of dread in each step he took toward his London flat. He'd spent his whole day working at Weasley Wizard Wheezes--a jokeshop once owned by he and his brother but even that didn't stop his slightly sour mood from being seen doing the day.

Many of the customers had asked him what was getting him down but he'd simply looked at them and smiled, "life, we all have those days. Even when you own a joke shop!" He flashed his trademark Weasley grin and immediately the customers moved on about the store, feeling at ease. It was not his job to tell people about all of his fears and inner demons--it was his job to make them forget about their own.

But as he turned his key in his door suddenly he wished he had talked to someone first. Had called his brother Ron, who would listen and not pass judgment. Or found a kind stranger on the streets of Diagon Alley or Muggle London...anyone.

He was instantly hit with the scent of candles and his girlfriend's burnt dinner. He could smell the stale scent of smoke in the air and cringed; she always cooked for him and he always ate it. He couldn't bare to tell her it all tasted charred and the same or that his siblings secretly made fun of her cooking. That his mother always sent him over some dinner which he ate greedily at the shop each evening before driving home.

"George!" Said the beautiful black haired girl running up to him and embracing him, "happy one year anniversary!"

_Anniversary._ She'd said the dreaded word, and now he closed his eyes even tighter as she kissed him behind his ear and pulled back. He opened his eyes to see her smile and kiss the side of his mouth, his lips.

It still baffled him that a hazy, drunken one night stand had turned into a one year relationship. George spun out of control after Fred's death. Not in an "obvious" way like drugs or mental illness but internally. He didn't know how to talk anyone and for some reason he couldn't bring himself to talk to any of his family. It seemed like they all had someone--his parents had each other, Ginny had Harry, Bill had Fleur, Percy had the love of his family back, and Ron--the lucky bastard, had his two best friends. Perhaps it was selfish to think of it in this terms but he felt he had a right to. _He'd _lost his brother and best friend. He'd thought about if Charlie must be lonely too but then decided Charlie was used to being away from the family at long periods of time anyway. He imagined it probably just felt like Fred was back home in England, that you couldn't really face the pain unless you lived with it everyday.

So naturally George was dreading celebrating having someone in his life who he didn't truly love but told her he did. Dreading the love they would make and the tears she would cry believing them to be "soul mates" or something equally daft or naive or both. He was dreading living another day lying to her, tempted to tell her the truth.

But she was playing with her long black hair, her bangs falling softly into her eyes. She had a pale, freckled heart shaped face, a small petite frame and she loved him. And as she smiled deviously at him in her thin white cotton dress he couldn't tell her. Not tonight, not when all of his sadnesses had combined and the only thing he wanted to do was taste her lips, her skin, her everything.

No. It wouldn't be tonight.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Absolutely nothing. I do enjoy imagining that I own Ronald but that's just my imagination.

_A/N: _Hey, thanks for the reviews on my last chapter! They were all very awesome and encouraging. Angelina is coming soon, I promise! I'm just thickening the plot a bit for her. ;)

MatoakaWilde: Haha your review made me giggle at 1:20am! I don't know if that intentional or not though.

_Chapter Two _

The sun greeted George the next morning, he opened each eye slowly feeling around for Lana, his girlfriend. It's an odd feeling--being so afraid of needing someone, and the next morning or day only wanting to know they are there. To have the reassurance that they are there. But she wasn't there and there was only a wrinkle in the peach colored sheets where she had lay. He sat up, put on his boxers and looked around. He caught the scent of coffee and followed it to the kitchen, where Lana sat her hair in a sloppy ponytail and she in a pair of his boxers and a tank top. She had on no bra and her small breasts moved slightly with every movement she made. He smiled, he could learn to love her--he would try.

After making love Lana had sighed and cuddled up inside of George's arms. She was like a little kid, always eager for sleep after anything prolonged and exhausting. He was thankful that he wouldn't have to eat her cooking. He'd told her he loved her more than anything in the mist of love making and she'd say, "I love you too George. I do."

But this morning she had a sad look in her eyes as she sat on the counter browsing a newspaper and sipping her coffee.

"Do you have one of those _Daily Prophet_ things? I quite enjoy reading them."

Lana was a Muggle whom George had met on one of the nights he'd decided to frequent a Muggle pub. He enjoyed them because he wasn't George Weasley to the people--just a bloke with red hair and who could make everyone laugh. It was easy to find dates for the night, women felt comfortable around him and also sensed his loneliness more than the men. They were attracted to his broken quality, thought they could be the one to fix him.

Lana was sitting alone by the bar, and George had noticed she'd been nursing the same beer for over an hour. Her head was low and she looked a bit too young, and a bit too nice to be in such a place. She had on jeans, sensible shoes, and v-necked grey sweater.

"Would you mind the company?" He asked, sliding next to her and angering a pretty blond giving him the eye.

Lana looked up at him and he noticed her freckles, how pretty they looked on someone who didn't look at all like a Weasley. "Company would be nice."

They talked and by the time the bar was closing at 3am Lana had nursed quite a _few _beers and was giggly and telling George her life story. She was 19 and a student at some "incredibly pretentious art school full of fakes" she'd went to boarding school somewhere in the States. She asked George about himself and he answered vaguely, "I'm 21 and I went to something of a boarding school you could say. I own my own business."

"Oh, the _Prophet_? I haven't gotten one for the month yet but a batch of the ___Quibbler_ arrived at the shop if that'll do?"

Lana's eyes lit up, "even better. The Quibbler is so interesting I can't believe those things actually exist!"

George didn't feel like explaining that half of the "magical creatures" featured in the _Quibbler_ didn't exist at all and opening up more questions from Lana. She was accepting of everything Magical--a bit like the Muggle version of his father, but it became tiring. He finally knew how Harry and Hermione must feel when Mr. Weasley asked them about _toaster ovens. _

"George" Said Lana, as he turned to get the paper.

"Yes?" He asked, somewhat exasperatedly.

Lana bit her lip and steadied herself, taking deep breaths. "Do I make you happy? I mean _really _happy or am I this annoying leach that you just put up with? I'm sorry if I'm being too forward, or adding to what bothers you about me but I really need to know."

George kissed her forehead. "You're absolutely wonderful. You're kind and artistic and you put up with me."

He saw in Lana's big blue eyes that she knew he was evading answering the question but she nodded anyway, going back to her coffee. George thought she looked just as lonely drinking that mug of coffee as she had sitting in that pub, nursing her beer.

He got dressed and in his anticipation of getting to the shop never brought herthe_ Quibbler_. He didn't give Lana another thought as he left out the flat, and started his day.

_Angelina is coming soon, I promise! I'm just thickening the plot a bit for her. ;) _


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. :(

_A/N: _Thank you for the reviews!

_Chapter Three_

George waited until he was out in the hall before he Apparated. It was one of those things that always seemed to frighten Lana--him disappearing with a crack right before her eyes. She said it was just a "Muggle, right? Yes, just a Muggle reflex!" but he still tried to avoid doing it in front of her.

It was a humid, rainy England day and he was glad to not have to walk in it. He'd since moved out of the flat above the shop, turning it into an area for the mostly young testers he'd hired. Harry, an Auror for the ministry would often joke with George that now when students graduated being an Auror, Healer, or tester for Weasley Wizard Wheezes were the top three jobs. "I wish you needed testers when I was in school" said Harry, "you pay well and it's fun!"

"You have to be really good at Potions though" said George, "and Snape probably would've flunked you just on principle if he knew you were going after tester."

George laughed to himself as he turned the lights on in the shop. Life without Fred wasn't so bleak--at least not all the time, not when he didn't allow himself to become immersed in how much he missed him.

George didn't know whether to revel in the quietness of the shop before it opened or to think about how empty it seemed without Fred. It'd been a little over a year since Fred's death and everything--no matter who was around or how much fun George tried to make himself have, was boring. It felt weird not having anyone around who knew exactly how he felt at every moment or even before he said what was wrong. It felt weird to suddenly be alone in the world, no matter how many other people lived in it or the fact that he still had six siblings who loved and cared about him. It didn't matter, because everyday of his life was spent being lonely and alone.

Just then there was a slight knock on the door and George turned. It could only be someone in his family being there this early and they knew they could just apparate in; he'd had Hermione place special charms around the place that would recgonize them all.

Sighing George went a peaked out the door prepared to say, "we're closed" but he saw a familar face. He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him and pulled the door open as quickly as he could manage. And there she was, Angelina Johnson.

_On the day of Fred's funeral George had spent all day thinking of ways not to cry. He'd been crying for that past two days nonstop in private--the shop was to be closed for a week, his pillow felt permanently damp, and everyone in the family gave him his space. However once in the vicinity of Fred's casket and seeing his body for the very last time, George felt as if he would undoubtedly break down. He chosen to see Fred's body earlier in the day, before his family and even all the guests had arrived. When the funeral started he had sat alone, in the back crying._

Angelina came and sat next to him, beautiful even in her somberness. She'd worn a black thin-strapped dress, black heels, and her legs bare. Her dark hair was pulled into an elegant bun off her face, she seemed regal somehow whenever George stole a glance at her. She didn't completely _breakdown--she only dabbed at her eyes from time to tome, determined to stare straight ahead at Fred's casket. George admired her._

"Hey" he said in a low voice, afraid his shaking voice would give away the tears he was trying so desperately to suppress.

"Hello, George" said Angelina and she paused for a moment as if thinking of what to do. Finally, she placed her hand over his and he looked at her. There was a fierce softness in Angelina's warm brown eyes, "you know George, you don't have to be so strong. No one is expecting you to be a robot and it's okay to cry."

"What about you?" George had asked of her, "___you're __not crying, either."_

Angelina smiled at him weakly, "I don't think I can cry anymore."

George nodded, he ___**had**____found someone who could share in his pain. "Me either."_

The next morning he felt better, waking up and not feeling so alone in the world. But he'd received a frantic--almost hysterical call from Angelina. She was crying and saying she was a coward and that she couldn't deal with it all. That she was going to the States to live with an aunt. Before George could tell her she was far from a coward, or persuade her to stay she'd hung up.

It was perhaps silly, but since that moment--since reassurance and solidarity seemed to escape him, George had felt no one would ever understand his pain. And he felt no need to share it, afraid that perhaps they might leave him too. He didn't blame Angelina, yet at the same time if her brave facade could falter--his could too. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

_Chapter Four_

George quickly opened the door to let Angelina in. She stepped in shyly and stood off to the side so he could could lock up again, putting up a sign that said "OPENING LATE."

"You didn't have to do that." Said Angelina in a quiet voice George wasn't used to from her.

He couldn't bring himself to speak--he stared at Angelina, she looked just as beautiful as ever although there was a hollow sadness in her brown eyes. It seemed that her eyes reflected his; they were different in color but there was no misplacing that loneliness in them. He wanted to tell her he knew how she felt, and that she didn't have to be alone. But he didn't know how.

"You're staring at me like I'm an alien" she said, "I know you're probably angry with me I--"

"No" was the first word George said in her presence, and it was a firm word. The perfect word, "no, I could never be angry with you. I understand why you left and you weren't a coward--not then and certainly not now. We've missed you around here."

Angelina smiled, and it looked more like a grimace, like the smile of someone who didn't quite know how or who had forgotten what it meant to smile. George saw himself in her so much. "I've missed everyone as well...it's what brought me back to England, actually. I realized that you can't run from your past and who you are forever. I'd been working in a bookstore in Maine, living with my aunt. Remember I told you I was going to stay with an aunt? Well, she's a Squib which made it easier to settle into Muggle life. I thought it'd be...simple, to forget everything. After all Muggles had no idea that we'd been fighting a war right under their noses and even the magical folks in the States didn't realize how _hard_ it'd been. They didn't have as many casualties.

"But that made it all much harder because sometimes I'd find myself wanting an old friend around to talk to, someone who would understand. And a few days ago I realized I needed to see everyone--to see _you_ more than anything and I packed all of my things, said brief and vague goodbyes, and got the first flight to London. And now here I am telling you a story you don't want to hear and hoping you've been ok. How have you been, George?"

George stared at her in wonder, the way her bangs curved to right on her forehead. The casual bun her black hair was in, the eyeliner under her eyes and diamond studs in her ears. Here was this beautiful, broken girl in front of him being more honest and blunt with him than anyone had dared to be in a year. He wanted to tell her the truth. "I've been...transparent? I've just been living, you could say. I guess I've been okay, I mean I'm sane and prospering aren't I? And you're wrong, Angelina, I want to hear your story."

There was more that he wanted to say to her but he didn't know how. He wanted to close the shop for the rest of the day and see if she remembered all the little things about Fred that he did, see if her pain could help to heal his.

Angelina looked around and up the stairs where George and Fred once lived, where she spent many nights with Fred while George tested beta products. She read the "TESTERS ONLY" sign and looked at George, raising an eyebrow and grinning. "Prospering you are. I guess I better get going...it was good seeing you. I'll owl you."

As she turned her back and began to walk to the door, George felt a frenzy building inside of him. He couldn't let Angelina walk out this time. He wanted to believe that she'd owl him but after a year of nothing letting him know if she were dead or alive he couldn't do it again. He wanted to establish something there--a friendship, common bond, _anything_.

So before she made it to the door he took her hand gently by the wrist. She turned around and looked at him with an inquisitive look.

"I um...I could use some help on the register" he said dumbly. _Really, Weasley? That's the best thing you've got to keep her aound?_

Angelina laughed then, a light laugh that was completely real. It warmed George inside.

"Well, I _do_ have quite the busy schedule, George Weasley..." she said as she took off her coat. She had on a blue blouse that was thin and showed the vague outline of her lacy bra. George realized he was staring and looked down at his hands. Angelina seemed to know the store like the back of her hand still--putting her coat on the hanger and grabbing an apron as not to spill anything on herself. She fastened it around her waist and joined George near the register.

"So, let's get started shall we?!"

George felt that her mood and tone were considerably brighter than twenty minutes or so before. Was it _him_ making her that happy? And he felt that for the first time in months he didn't have to pretend to be happy, or be afraid to say what he was feeling. Everything was coming natural to him, George Weasley was becoming a real person again. And it'd only took an old friend and twenty minutes of her time.

He winked at her. "Let's get started, Johnson!" He went to the door and put up the "OPEN" sign.

And as he looked back at the girl at the counter waving at him and going to greet the early morning testers knocking at the back door, George Weasley felt that his heart might be open too.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything except this plot and Ron Weasley in my heart. :-)

_A/N: I think this is the longer chapter I've written so far, thank you for the reviews they make it fun to continue this fic. Keep 'em coming! _

_Chapter 5_

At the end of the day Angelina stayed behind to help George close up the shop and do inventory. No one ever wanted to help do the tedious work of inventory and George wondered perhaps if Angelina didn't want to go home, maybe she hated having time to think too.

"So, where are you living?" He asked hoping he sounded casual and that his hunger to know more about her wasn't showing in his voice.

"Oh, with my my mum and dad until I find a place of my own. I just got in yesterday and I went looking for a job. Once I find one of those, I'll start on the whole flat thing."

"You can work here" said George quickly, craving to see her everyday. "I mean, if you want. It might not be what you had in mind but--"

"No, it's perfect! I had a lot of fun today."

George beamed. "Are you hungry at all?"

Angelina nodded. "I haven't ate since a yogurt cup I had this morning."

They went to a Chinese restaurant in Muggle London, not far from George's own flat. It was only when he realized how close they were to his home that he thought of Lana. She must be worried sick about him, he always came home directly after work as George had no where to go other than the Burrow. She probably thought he'd been mugged.

"You look stressed" said Angelina, in-between bits of egg roll. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

George didn't know why he didn't want to tell Angelina that he had a girlfriend. After all, there wasn't any reason for him ___not_ to tell her. She was an old friend, the love of his dead brother's life, there was no reason to hide this from her.

"It's just...I haven't called my girlfriend and I'm afraid she probably thinks I've been mugged on the dangerous streets of downtown London."

Angelina laughed and looked down at her plate. George couldn't read the expression on her face, why did he feel guilty? Angelina had never been his. "Well, I suggest you go to the men's room or something and call her. Just let her know you're ok and that you ran into an old friend."

"Should I mention you're a girl?" George blurted.

Angelina looked up at him thoughtfully. "Hm...that's a good question. Well, if it were me in her shoes I'd want to know. It makes trusting you a lot easier, because I know if you told me it's a girl you're not trying to hide anything and that there's nothing going on."

"And if I don't tell her?" Asked George.

"Well" said Angelina sighing and putting a hand on her cheek, "I guess you're doing it for a reason."

With her advice in mind, George excused himself from the table--somewhat grudgingly, and found an empty stall in the restroom.

Lana had introduced him to cellphones as a way for them to keep in touch that didn't involve owls, floo powder, or portkeys.

"George!" She picked up on the first ring, "I was worried sick about you, where are you? Is everything okay?"

George smiled, "everything is fine. I um--well, my brother Fred's ex girlfriend came to the shop today and we've been catching up."

"Fred...that's your twin, the one who died?" Lana's voice was low and soft, and George couldn't help but think of how kind Lana was. How understanding she was and how she put up with his withdrawn moods and the fact that deep down she knew he wasn't in love with her.

"Yeah." Said George, for lack of words.

"Aw well, I'm happy you're catching up with someone who was close to him as well. Do you know what time you'll be home at all or should I just go to bed?"

George looked at his watch, it was 11pm. He thought out how he'd answer her carefully. On the one hand he wanted to talk to Angelina all night--find out everything about her, where she'd been in that last year and where it was she was going. But he didn't want to exclude Lana, because she loved him and while he didn't love her back in the same way he did love her. And he cared about her.

"You can go to sleep, if you want. We have a lot to catch up on, a lot to talk about." George didn't lie to her--it was the truth. And he was vague enough that Lana wouldn't wonder too much, would assume that everything they talked about referred to Fred. And, that was the truth, it wasn't like he and Angelina were on a _date_.

"Oh, alright. I'll see you later" there was a brief pause, "love you."

"I love you too" said George without hesitation, it was best to say I love you.

When he found his way back to Angelina she had finished eating and was reading her fortune cookie. George stood back staring at her for awhile. She was beautiful, looking down with a small smile on her face, one of those thoughtful private smiles.

"What's your fortune?" He asked sitting back down across from her.

Angelina looked up, as if being pulled from another world. "What? Oh, it's kind of weird actually. It says, "_the key to happiness is in the most obvious place. Don't be afraid to see it_." That could mean anything--they key to happiness could be another egg roll, the key to happiness could be coming home to England."

___The key to happiness could be me_, thought George. He finished eating in silence, Angelina singing along to the Muggle songs that came on over the speakers. When he was finished eating, George hurriedly unwrapped his own fortune cookie anxious for what it would say. He usually wasn't very superstitious, but if hers was so accurate he only hoped his word be the same.

He read it in a rush and his heart sank. "_The one you've been waiting for is right in front of you, the one's whose heart you will break is waiting for you._"

"What's it say?" Asked Angelina excitedly.

"Nothing relevant" lied George balling it up and putting it on top of his plate.

"Oh" Said Angelina a bit thrown off, "okay..."

"You ready to go?" Asked George feeling a bit on edge.

Angelina shrugged and stood up putting her coat back on.

The walk to the nearest portkey was quiet and tense. George wanted to talk to her but it seemed like they'd said too much yet at the same time not enough. Angelina started humming a tune that was vaguely familiar to George but he couldn't quite place it. Words came to him before you realized he was speaking. _"I've loved ya since I knew ya, I wouldn't talk down to ya."_

_"I have to tell you just how I feel, I won't share you with another boy. I know my mind is made up, so put away your makeup."_ Finished Angelina, smiling. "I didn't know you were familiar with the Police."

"I wasn't until a few months after I met Lana--that's my girlfriend's name. She played that song over and over one night and I became fond of it."

"It's one of my aunt's favorites and while in Maine I listened to it and the band themselves quite a bit. I love the name Roxanne, although the song is supposedly about a prostitute in southern France; but I like the message, that everyone is worthy of love and a second chance."

George listened intently, clinging to these little details about Angelina and what she liked. She probably didn't even realize it as she spoke on. "I like that name too, Roxanne" said George quietly, "and it's really interesting--your thoughts on the song. I never really listened to it that much, it is very romantic in a bittersweet way. A sad way."

They almost passed up the floo--an old shoe, for their speaking of old Muggle songs and Angelina promising to introduce George to more songs by the Police. When they reached it they stood staring at one another for a bit--George noticed that they seemed to do that often--stare at each in silence. Angelina eyed the left side of his head where his ear used to be. Hermione, a healer, had done all she could to make it less noticeable and in the end had made it so it was a smooth patch of skin there. People didn't stare much, it was better than the black hole that used to occupy his face.

"May I?" Asked Angelina reaching out to touch his face.

George gulped and nodded. Angelina rubbed where his ear once was gently and affectionately, looking at him with--not eyes of pity, but eyes of something else. Something like unadulterated lust and deep...something he was afraid to admit to himself.

She seemed as if something was on the tip of her tongue but settled for a weak smile. "You fought the good fight" she whispered.

"You too" whispered George, brushing a piece of stray hair ot of her face.

Angelina bit her lip and shook her head, she looked like she wanted to cry. "I loved him more than anything else in my life, you know."

"I know" said George, "so did I."

She buried her head in her hands, "it doesn't seem fair to have to go on without him. To be expected to be okay and at the same time have people expect you to break down. That's how I felt at the funeral--like pitying eyes were upon me, it's why I had to get out. But--but I never meant to leave you here by yourself George. I never meant to do that to you. I wanted to owl or call or write you so many times. But I was a coward--and don't you dare tell me different. But I'm here now and I want to atone for that. I want to be your friend, and make it up to you. I'm never going to leave again."

George looked at her in awe. A tear escaped down her cheek and George gently wiped it away with his thumb. He caressed Angelina's cheek and before either of them knew what was happning he kissed the side of her mouth, and then her lips. Angelina kissed back hungrily and hesitantly, tasting like sweet sauce and egg noodles. She sighed into his mouth and George, felt an electricity, a _need_ he had never felt before. Not with any girl before Fred's death, and not with one sense. Certainly not with Lana. Poor Lana, who he was betraying but it felt like fate had led him to this moment, with this woman.

When Angelina pulled away George felt as if he had been ripped from a dream. His eyelids fluttered open and he looked dazed, his blurry vision filled with the sight of something magnificent.

"I um, better get home and you have a girlfriend to attend to. But I meant what I said--every word. I'll see you in the morning, Weasley."

And before George could utter a single word Angelina had picked up the portkey and disappeared. Her fortune cookie wrapper had fell out of her pocket and he picked it up to read it once more, _the key to happiness is in the most obvious place. Don't be afraid to see it. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything related to Harry Potter! :(

_A/N: flameonurass-trusc, sassyne, and missraellamorgan—thank you all!_

_Chapter 6_

When George arrived home he apparated inside. It was nearly 2 in the morning and he knew that Lana would be asleep. It was dark inside and he went into the kitchen where Lana had left a note that read "dinner." He left the plate on the table and went into the bedroom. Lana was sleeping peacefully wrapped in sheets; she looked beautiful there, in that moment but George couldn't go near her. He didn't love Lana and he was afraid that if she woke up she'd see that in his eyes, the expression on his face, and she'd know everything. George was sure that he couldn't go on living with Lana and fueling this lie when it was someone else that he loved. Someone whom it seemed, was meant to be his and who he wanted to give his whole life to. But she didn't have anywhere else to go, although she was attending uni he didn't want to kick her out on her feet without a proper talk. He didn't want her to see his face and pack all of her things in a hysteria.

But it was time that he admit to himself that he'd loved Angelina Johnson from the start.

/ / /

_"Okay, be good boys and please don't play foolish pranks on people!" Called their mother, Mrs. Weasley, to her two boys Fred and George as they got ready to board the train. "Percy and Charlie, please watch over them--especially you Percy, as you're closer to their age."_

"We promise to prank everyone mum!" Called out Fred, running between platform 9 and 10 before Mrs. Weasley could reprimand him.

"And I promise to make sure Percy never catches us in action!" Called George, taking Fred's lead as he found himself staring ahead at a magnificent train.

Percy walked the platform with a smooth ease, eying the twins hautily. "Mum's going to send you both a Howler for that display back there. And I will be sure to keep an extra eye on you both for your little comment, George. Carry on, I have to be on train for a special meeting--no doubt making me prefect."

"What a wanker" Said Fred, testing out the newest forbidden word he'd learned and was able to use now that his mother's watchful eye wasn't around.

"I know" said George, half-listening and half in awe of the magnificent sight before him. A black, white, and red train stood before him with puffs of white smoke coming out of it's top like a cumulus cloud. It was like nothing he could've imagined even in his wildest of dreams.

"We better find some good spots" said Fred, lugging his luggage behind him. George followed looking around and wishing he knew a spell to put eyes on each side of his face so he wouldn't miss anything. They found an empty compartment near the back and put their things above them. They sat down excitedly, looking around them and grinning.

Before long they were joined by a boy with dreadlocks named Lee Jordan whom they had met a few weeks before in Diagon Alley.

"Hey!" He said excitedly, stepping into the compartment, "mind if I join you two? I don't know anyone else at all."

"Not at all!" Said the twins at the same time, they were used to speaking at once and didn't seem to notice at all. Lee sat opposite them, asking them how the rest of their summer holidays had went and talking about the announcer slot for the Quidditch matches being open.

"And what makes you think they'll give it to a first year?" Asked Fred in a friendly tone.

"Oh, well my brother did it for the last 4 years and I have a pretty good voice so I'm going to talk to McGonagall about it. And who knows, I might even be in Gryffindor which will make it even easier to chat her up since that's her head of house. Although my brother Ben tells me she's rather no nonsense."

"Good luck with that, then." Said Fred. The boys talked more about what houses they hoped to be in (Gryffindor the only one Fred and George even entertained the idea of, while Lee Jordan confessed he'd be happy with either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, and that he'd settle for Hufflepuff. Slytherin was not mentioned at all.)

After an hour on the train a snack trolley came around led by a round lady with white hair. George became aware of the minimal amount of money he had and that Mrs. Weasley had warned him and Fred to save it up for the whole year.

Lee, however ordered a bit of everything and put it beside him in his seat. He looked at the twins and frowned, "do you expect me to eat it all by myself?" They laughed and dug in, as the train wore on and the sun began to set outside.

When the they arrived at their destination George noticed that everyone around him had a puzzled kind of look. There was no sight of a castle, but only fields of grass, a lake, and the night sky above them.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Asked George.

"Dunno" said Fred equally confused, "Bill and Charlie never mentioned this bit, and god knows I wouldn't ask Percy how to find my way out of a paperbag. Lee, you seem to know a lot about the inner workings of Hogwarts--know what this is called?"

Lee shrugged, "your guess is as good as mine, mate."

The ground shook slightly and George looked for what was causing it. He knew a bit about Muggle definitions for things, mostly because of his father's odd obsession with them. He thought to himself that this must be what an earth quake felt like.

Before long a huge man greeted them and there were gasps of fear all around until the man laugh a booming laugh and introduced himself as Hagrid, gamekeeper of Hogwarts.

"Don't mean ter scare, ya!" He called out. "'M jus here ter make sure ya lot make it ter Hogwarts alright, orders of the headmaster. Follow me!"

The now somewhat less frightened first years followed Hagrid timidly while the upperclassmen chatted amongst one another as if this happened everyday--being greeted by giants.

"Alright first years yer first! Line up, line up close ter yer friends as it five people per boat an' I'll count yer off! 2-7 years, remain behind!"

Fred, George, and Lee all lined up by one another not bothering to check who had gotten behind them in line. There were exactly 10 students in front of them, so they'd be sitting with each other no matter what. When their turn to be seated arrived George stepped into the boat shaking and took his seat next to Fred and Lee. Two girls entered the boat after them and George eyed them with interest. At 11, the only girls he'd been around was his baby sister Ginny who hardly seemed like a girl at all and all of the Weasley family members. But girls who weren't related to him--and pretty girls at that, was somewhat of a foreign concept. They sat on the other side of the boat close together, not paying much attention to the boys but whispering excitedly.

They were both pretty thought George; there was a pretty brunette with hair to her shoulders and side-swept bangs. She looked at him quickly and giggled, talking to the other girl again. What? Was she making fun of him for something? He knew he should've gotten a hair cut. He hated girls.

The other one a girl whom he noted was tall for a girl of 11 looked at all three of the boys calculatingly. She didn't smile but simply looked on with narrowed eyes before twisting her braided hair around her finger. George noticed that although she looked at them with no expression she had a warm, kind face. Her skin was smooth and brown and before he could figure out what he was thinking about Fred nudged him.

"That one is cute" he said.

"What?" Asked George, pretending not to know what Fred was on about although they always knew what the other was thinking or talking about.

"The one who shot daggers at us" said Fred, "she's cute. Hope she's in Gryffindor with us."

"How do you know we're going to be in Gryffindor?" Asked George.

Fred laughed before speaking loudly enough to get the girls attention, "what Weasley hasn't been brave enough for good old Gryffindor?"

And just like that, Fred had placed claim on a girl George wasn't even sure he liked, but now there could be no more thought of her. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** Hey, I've already said it—I don't own anything!

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews :) I don't like the finished version of this chapter as much as I did while writing it but it's a good start for the next one. ;)_

Over the next few months George and Angelina were careful to keep their relationship strictly platonic. It was so platonic, in fact, that it bordered on barely being one at all, even at the shop. It had become strictly hello, goodbye, a few smiles in between, and being painfully aware of the other's presence. George realized that he spent so much time avoiding any contact with Angelina that the shop seemed more like a fish tank--one a tiny fish, the other it's predator.

It wasn't until one evening of working in extremely close contact while doing inventory that George realized just how ludicrous it all was. Angelina as she always did offered to help with inventory, George began to wonder more and more why she did. Angelina had leaned over him to get a pen and her chest grazed his arm. It sent electric through George and Angelina must have felt it as well, for she paused before sitting back down.

"Sorry" She said.

"For what?" Asked George, wanting to talked to her again, "people rub up against me accidentally everyday, no need to even acknowledge it, really."

Angelina smiled and continued her work; George was frustrated, it was like his attempts at talking to her were invisible. Like she didn't even notice.

"Girls are weird" Said George aloud, realizing that he must sound like an immature eight year old.

Angelina sighed. She had on a deep v-necked t-shirt and George couldn't help but notice the curve in her best--how luscious they were. How they moved when she sighed or at her slightest movement at all. "Trouble at home?"

"No...not exactly" he said, "just in general...girls are weird."

Angelina shrugged, "that we are."

George didn't know what to say--Angelina was an expert in the art of clipped responses. There wasn't any emotion in her tone and he couldn't tell if she cared about his dilemma or not. They worked on silently for another 45 minutes before Angelina spoke again.

"So, what's weird about us? The fact that we have breast and you don't?"

George laughed, he was going to enjoy this rare conversation. "Well that too but--no, it's not what I mean. I don't really know how to explain it. You guys just have a weird way of handling things, I guess."

"What kind of "things" do you mean?" Asked Angelina, counting some money before mumbling and writing something down on a sheet of paper.

"You guys don't talk about things."

Angelina laughed harshly, "Oh, no. That is _totally_ blokes way of handling things! I remember once, a guy told me I had nice legs and Fred fumed but didn't say anything for--" Angelina stopped, biting her bottom lip.

George gulped. It'd been so easy to talk with her about Fred that first day back but today was considerably different. They had kissed--a real kiss, although he wasn't sure if it meant anything although judging from the way Angelina was acting it might as well have. Talking about Fred had become just as hard to talk about with Angelina as with anyone else; wasn't that the basis of their friendship in the first place?

"And he didn't say anything for...what?" Asked George in a low voice, begging her to continue on.

"He didn't say anything for days but he could never seem to look at my legs or touch them. I finally asked him what was wrong and he said" Angelina giggled at the memory, "that bloke BLOODY SAID YOU HAD NICE LEGS! IN FRONT OF ME, THE _NERVE_ OF HIM!" And I said to him, "aren't you happy other men find things about me attractive? shouldn't it be kind of flattering" and Fred laughed then. Everything was okay after that--after we just talked about it, but it was typical male behavior if you ask me. Not expressing feelings and that kind of rubbish."

George thought of his brother getting angry only to laugh in the end. He looked at Angelina, "why have you been avoiding me?"

Angelina got back to work and spoke in a strangled voice, "what are you on about, Weasley? I've seen and spoke to you everyday, do you want me to move in or something?" She ended the last few words with a sarcastic note.

"Oh come off it!" George didn't mean to yell and Angelina looked up at him shocked. "Sorry" he said lowering his tone, "but you know exactly what I'm "on about" I can tell by your voice! Ever since that night after we had dinner you've acted as if I have the plague. Why? Is it--it--the kiss? I'm sorry, ok?"

Angelina curled her hair around her finger. Her black hair was in a pony-tail, her bangs swept to the side although some strays hair had escaped the rhythmatic pattern. She licked her lips, and George wanted to kiss them again although he knew what good that had did them the first time.

"Don't apologize George, I really rather enjoyed that kiss. It's why I've been avoiding you, truthfully. It just all seemed to happen too fast--coming home, seeing you, _kissing_ you. I wanted to discern if I was kissing you out of grief or comfort or..." Angelina's voice trailed off and she looked down at her hands, which she were ringing in one another now.

"Or what?" Asked George, not sure if he wanted to know the answer but positive he needed to know it if they were to move forward at all.

Angelina shook her head, a tear escaping her eyes. George couldn't stand to see girls cry--any girl, and especially not her. She held up so well at Fred's funeral it didn't seem fair that a simple question from George should reduce her to tears. "I...I was afraid that I'd kissed you because you look like _him_. And I couldn't talk to you, couldn't risk it again until I was sure that it wasn't. I feel like a terrible person everyday, like I wronged you. You don't deserve someone who's only kissing you because you hold remnants to someone they've lost. Because...you look like your brother." And Angelina placed her head in her hands and began to sob then, unrestricted sobs from months grief pent up.

George got up and sat beside her, he cradled her in his arms and Angelina didn't object. His shirt quickly became tear stained but it didn't matter, this felt like exactly the place he should be, with exactly the right person.

"Angie don't cry, please. Please?" He lifted her chin and Angelina cast her eyes down, refusing to look at him.

She gave a tiny tear soaked smile then, "I want you to know that I've figured it out. I didn't kiss you because you look like him--I kissed you because you're you. Because you've been the only person who I could talk to, because you understand, and yes because you comforted me. I'm sorry for being so cold toward you these past few months I just couldn't stand any more complications, losing anyone else."

George shook his head and wiped another tear away before it could reach the end of her face. "Oh, Angelina you don't ever have to worry about losing me at least--not in any way I can manage. I'm going to be here for you as long as you let me, and nothing like a kiss is going to push me away. In fact, if it's what you want I'll kiss you some more."

Angelina grinned at him now, "I'd like that but I'm not keen on being a homewrecker. It's not really my thing."

_Lana._

George had forgotten all about her in tonight's jubilation. He hadn't been this happy in literally months. He and Angelina were on the threshold of admitting their very real feelings for one another. And there was Lana to be attended to, to be taken into consideration.

"So, if my girlfriend wasn't in the picture would you want me to kiss you?" He asked.

Angelina looked at him and rolled her eyes, "I'm not going to give you amunition to break up with your girlfriend, if that's what you want."

"I don't need it, really. We haven't been happy...ever. Really, I hate to say this but she was never supposed to be my girlfriend it just kind of happened. I've been meaning to get around to breaking up with since the morning after...after--"

"You had sex." Said Angelina.

"Yeah, and it just never quite happened."

Angelina nodded. "If you do it and I'm not telling you to, tell her all of that, but gently. Don't use me as a scapegoat, it's not fair to her. It sounds to me that you really do care about her feelings and that she has been a kind of comforting presence for you. Let her know that, it'll make her feel a little bit better about it all."

George's eyes shone with affection for the girl he was cradling in his arms, he could get use to her kind advice for the rest of his life. "I loved you the moment I laid eyes on you" he spoke in a soft voice. "We were first years and you and Alicia sat opposite Lee, Fred, and me in the boat. Alicia looked at me giggled and at the time I didn't realize that's what girls do when they like you--you lot really are more mature, and you looked at us like you hated us."

"Oh!" Said Angelina, "let me interrupt before you continue, _I_ wasn't such a mature girl. That's what I did when I saw boys I thought were cute. I looked at them with daggers as not give away the fact that I liked them. 11 year old fear of rejection, you know. And the three of you were definitely quite cute."

George felt his ears go hot but continued on, "Well when you looked my way I thought you looked warm under the glance of yours. Kind. And I didn't realize what I was feeling then although now I know that it was the eleven year old version of me wanting to _kiss_ you. But Fred said that you were cute and it was the end of that thought for me, because he'd said it first which meant I couldn't like you."

Angelina was silent and then laughed, her whole body shaking. She smelled very good although it was a light, faint sweet smell. "I'm sorry" she said, "I didn't mean to laugh it's just--so much like you two to have that kind of rule!"

Angelina looked at him with warm eyes and her expression became serious again, "so you're really going to break up with her?"

George nodded, "yeah."

"Then...one little kiss can't hurt." And she leaned down and before her lips touched his George ran his hand up and down her cheek. He pulled her head to his and they kissed like that. Her on his lap, him holding her to him. Angelina sighed into his mouth and just as George was about to deepen he kiss, she abruptly pulled back.

"Little kiss" she winked. "Goodnight, Weasley."

"What about--what about the inventory?" He asked in a hoarse voice.

"I'll get here early to help finish up."

And just when he thought he'd go mad from her teasing like that she winked at him and kiss him for a millisecond. "Bye."

Bloody hell, whether at the age of two or twenty-two, girls were weird.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter!

_A/N: Personally, this is my favorite chapter. ;)_

When George arrived back at his flat he was surprised to find every room lit up and boxes strewn about everywhere. All of his things were in tact, but when he went into the bathroom he noticed that all of Lana's girlier products were nowhere to be found, and that in their bedroom her side of the closet was bare. He didn't know what to make of it--he didn't know if he should be concerned or smile. He didn't see Lana anywhere and he wondered if this was some Muggle ritual he didn't know about (as they had a lot of odd rituals) and continued to look for her. Finally, he saw her in the living room, sitting on their plush couch with a glass of red wine in her tiny hands.

"Oh, hello" She said coolly, putting the glass down. George could tell she hadn't drank yet, and he was thankful for that it's not good to make drunken, rash decisions.

"Lana..." He said unsure, "we need to talk."

She threw her head back, he black hair dancing on her back. "That's an understatement for you!"

George blinked, maybe she _had_ gotten drunk and he didn't know about it. "Lana, I really don't know what you're talking about, enlighten me?"

She narrowed her pretty blue eyes. "_Enlighten_ you, George Weasley? I certainly will, I am not an idiot because that's certainly what you seem to think! I _know_ you never loved me, I know you don't want me, and I know you're screwing around on me!" Her voice broke on the word 'screwing' and George thought that he'd never noticed this rather dramatic side of her. And it was quite hilarious although he held back the urge to laugh. In this moment, Lana reminded him of some tart Ron had dated in his sixth year--Lavender.

George moved toward her and sat opposite on the couch. Lana looked at him with sad eyes, tears brimming in them. _Oh fuck_ thought George, _more girls crying_.

He cleared his throat. This was as good of a time as any, and she'd been the one to give him the opening. "You're right about some things Lana and...I'm sorry. I never meant to end up hurting you and there's absolutely no excuse for that. Not me feeling sorry for myself, not me wanting someone around, none. I _do_ want you...if I didn't I wouldn't have let this go on for so long. Don't ever think I didn't want you, but you are right I never loved you. And I'm sorry for wasting a year of your life on something I never wanted in the first place."

Lana sniffed, her breathing pattern was becoming somewhat normal again. "And have you been sleeping with someone else?"

"No" said George, "I wouldn't do that to you."

She nodded looking down at her hands, "I um...I think I always knew. From that very first night you were just--so good to me, you know? And I didn't want to let that go. But over the last few months you've been so distant, even more so than what I had grown accustomed to. I knew that you couldn't pretend anymore and that I had to stop being so damn selfish and let you go. But I had to hear all of this from you first, I _had_ to, so I'd know everything about us wasn't a lie."

George didn't know what to say, he thought it'd be easier than this. He thought it'd be easy to finally get rid of her, but Lana was a person. And as he sat across from her, taking in his confession, he realized there was so much to her he'd never bothered to know, that he hadn't wanted to know. He kissed her forehead gently and smiled at her, "it wasn't all a lie."

Lana stood up then and stretched, "I'm going to stay at my parents tonight. I'll be moving into the dorms tomorrow and have all of this out before you get home." She looked down and around before looking at George again speaking low, "do you...love her? Your brother's..."

George didn't realize how he ever could've misjudged this girl's perceptiveness. "Yeah" he said after some time, "I think I do. Lana do you think he'd hate me?" George had been wondering this for months and found it all kind of comical and hazy that his now ex-girlfriend would be the person he'd ask.

She tilted her head and smiled at him, placing her hands on his before she bent down in front of him. "No, George I don't think he'd hate you at all."

And with that Lana ran her hand along his cheek before making he way out the door. She was out of his life--he'd no longer have to pretend or dread coming home everyday, lying to her over and over. But he felt a pain in his heart nonetheless, the pain of losing someone he could have called a friend.

_A/N: Aw. I thought I'd redeem Lana as she exited, she wasn't all bad—just an annoying barrier between love. _


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Hey, long time, no update. I could make excuses like I've been really, really busy—which, although true would be a lie considering I had this chapter written months ago. This was originally the last chapter before my final chapter but I scraped chapter 10 so now I'm not sure how I'm going to end this; if I have any reviewers left, you guys are the best! You always leave me the most encouraging reviews. _

_**Chapter 10: Prelude to Happiness**_

The following day was a battle between lust and logic.

Angelina arrived ten minutes after George to help him finish up the inventory as promised and it took everything in him not to take her face in his hands and kiss her. He didn't know if she was trying to turn him on or if she knew the power she held over him but in her black pencil skirt, lacy white blouse that dipped where her full breasts peeked, black tights, and black stiletto shoes, he was definitely more than a little excited. Her hair was in a bun on the top of her head and she licked her lips quite often while counting galleons, leaning over papers her breasts seemed to rise and fall so wondrously.

George wanted to tell her so badly that he'd broken up with Lana, that she was out of his life for good but he couldn't. He was reveling in their easy chattering again, having her as a friend again, and he didn't want to ruin that because he was sex deprived and wanted her so badly.

At the end of the day, when it was time to do inventory again and Angelina volunteered to stay late, helping him out George quickly told her no, that it could wait until the morning. Angelina looked at him questioningly but in the end shrugged and told him to have a good night.

While doing the inventory alone (he'd lied to Angelina about waiting until morning, he just couldn't stand to be around her any longer and contain his desire) George entertained the idea of being celibate for the rest of his life. He knew it'd never work--he enjoyed sex too much and would probably be found dead in his bed with blue balls--but he didn't see any other option. Since Angelina's arrival he'd entertained the idea of what making love to her would be like over and over in his mind. It wouldn't be a mindless shag, or just fucking, or sex but _making_ love. He was sure of that, but he was also sure that for all of the discussions and the kissing that it'd probably never happen. He didn't know if either of them were ready to do that yet--not knowing that Fred would be watching either from some utopia in the clouds or a shady corner of the bedroom. And so, he would be celibate because sex with anyone else would leave him feeling sick afterwards, as if he'd committed a sin, like when he'd made love to Lana after realizing he was in love with Angelina. _Angelina._ Even her name was beautiful and rolled off his tongue, came to him like a word he was born to know.

"Angelina, Angelina, Angelina" he sang as he closed up for the night, prepared to go to his lonely flat. He decided to walk home it was a humid, dry, summer night in London and he wanted to enjoy it. It was also nice to stand outside his door and then open it to silence and the only smell being the lingering soap scent from them morning. Once he'd turned the light on he saw that Lana had made good on her word and that all of her things were gone. He looked around and saw on the coffee table that there remained one thing she'd forgot. It was a disc labeled _The Classics_ in small black print with _the Police_ on the other side. George smiled, thinking of how lucky he was. He looked around for the flat for the stereo he'd bought and had Hermione explain to him (it'd taken two hours, but Hermione in all her patience and kindness hadn't rolled her eyes once.) He read the song listings under the print and found one that caught his eye entitled "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic."

He played it and immediately fell in love with the melody and lyrics. It seemed that they were made for him and how he felt. So maybe he'd spend the night listening to this wonderful 80's Muggle band and getting drunk. He'd wake up in the morning and laugh at his patheticness and go on to another day of work, it would become the story of his life.

Just as he'd put the song on repeat there was a quiet knock at the door and George swore, it had to be Lana remembering her cd and coming to ruin all of his fun. However, when he opened it he saw Angelina standing there looking a bit pissed.

"Why'd you lie to me about the inventory George?" She stormed in, and stood in front of him.

George shut the door, "Um, nice to see you too come on in."

"No time for jokes. You told me that we'd do inventory in the morning and when I was about to leave I saw you _sit_ there and do it all by yourself! With a smile! You could've told me you just didn't want me around."

George found something sexy about her anger--she still had on her work clothes and he found it fierce and defiant that she'd watched him that whole time, followed him here. He laughed and she hit him. "This isn't funny, George."

"I know, I know" he said holding up his hands, "it's just you've misread the whole situation. I told you I'd do it myself because I'm so goddamn attracted to you and I didn't want to end up scaring you."

Angelina's eyes softened. "Oh. Why would you scare me?"

"Because...because I'd do something rash."

"Define rash."

George walked towards her, his feet seemed to be held down my sandbags. She was so close and although he'd kissed her twice before this seemed to be the time that _really_ mattered. The time when he would give himself to her. "I just have to know, do you think you could ever love me? See beyond all the things that could keep us apart?"

Angelina smiled then. "I already do love you, George Weasley. Not for who you look like or because I'm trying to hold onto him, I told you that last night and I meant every word.

George closed the space between them then, and traced her lips with his index finger. They were soft and lucious and he wanted so badly to kiss her. But he didn't want to ruin the moment, he wanted to look at her for just a little bit longer. He traced the almond shape of her eyes, gently caressed her eyelids and lashes, all the way down to her nose. He brought both of his hands to her soft and warm cheeks then. "I love you" he whispered to her before his lips met hers in the sweetest kiss. She didn't pull away or stop him, but only wrapped her arms around his neck and slightly parted her lips. He was going to gain the coveted entrance into her he'd been waiting for, he was going to make her his.


End file.
